


Gnaw

by Dribbledscribbles



Category: The Magnus Archives
Genre: This one is going to sting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dribbledscribbles/pseuds/Dribbledscribbles
Summary: Last thoughts of a Hunter.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 69





	Gnaw

She’s fast, is the thing. Despite her size, despite the miserable heat of the place broiling her inside her pelt, she’s fast. Always faster than the prey, as fast as she needs to be. It’s easy to pounce, to snatch up the new target. 

His face is familiar, as is the pungent whiff of fear and some sort of hurt. Not just the pain, her sharp nose announces, though that’s there too. A hot lance of it from where a canine has pierced his leg. He’s bundled all the way up in her jaws now, light as a bone, and she could shake him until he flies apart, until he snaps and crackles, or simply bite down and cleave him in two, the living half still ripe and screaming, for that is how durable her prey is in her endless Hunting. She’s sure she can circle back through her old path and find her finished work miraculously unfinished, fresh as ever, waiting on her righteous punishment.

This one, though. This one tastes odd.

There is a prickle somewhere in her spine, that sixth or seventh sense that has steered her so perfectly through this paradise of victims. It is warning her of something she can’t name. Blandly, she thinks she is being Watched by more than her baying audience. Something that will not stop her from tearing into the shouting thing in her teeth—but will not hesitate to act if—if she—

It doesn’t matter. She has him and he is familiar and so he is prey is guilty is—

_Dirt and crushing and weeping and out, out, out, free from the choke and the dark, and—_

She does not bite down. She holds. Breathes. Does not let go.

Basira is there. She knows Basira. Basira is Partner. Is Pack. Basira? Come?

The thing in her mouth makes noise—trying to escape, to leave her—

A growl rolls up her throat, warning. She gnaws a little and the fear-pain is good. 

_Don’t listen to the blood. Listen to the quiet._

Basira talks at her. Wants her to put her prey down.

Fine. Won’t go anywhere. His leg bleeds, hurts, he won’t escape. Won’t leave her behind.

_Not there in the choke, in the dark. Could have. Should have. Best to leave dead dogs Buried._

She makes noise at Basira. Basira makes noise back.

The prey—???—is with another, Watching. Stay. Will stay. She will carry him off once Basira comes, locked in her teeth like—like—

_Weak. Weak chattel-cattle-pup, Hunted, protected because weak, protected because duty, protected because—because—_

Not Partner. Basira was Partner, is Partner, why-won’t-she-come, why-won’t-she-join, but the prey wasn’t prey, he was—

Basira will not come. Won’t let her take her not-prey. They will not come, they will _leave_ her, _her Pack means to leave her--_

_“Basira!”_

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.


End file.
